Tangled Web
by Jedi Sapphire
Summary: Legolas has been summoned before the King's Council to answer for a mission that went disastrously wrong. Sequel to "Hours of Darkness".
1. Council

**Disclaimer:** Not one Elf.

**Author's Note:** This follows on from _Where Battle Ends _(Chapter 4 of _Mirkwood Matters_) and _Hours of Darkness_, and it'll probably make a lot more sense if you've read those first. _Practise to Deceive_, (Chapter 3 of _The Toys of War_) refers to events in this. It picks up almost immediately after the end of _Hours of Darkness. _And, now that I think about it, it also references the events of _Falling Shadow_. (Sorry. *blushes* I can't believe I wrote something so... sprawling.)

It's complete in six parts and I'll try to update at least twice a week.

I owe a great big thank you to Melethril and Elliska, who always know when to prod. ;-)

**Rating:** PG13

**Summary:** Legolas has been summoned before the King's Council to answer for a mission that went disastrously wrong. Sequel to _Hours of Darkness_.

* * *

**Tangled Web**

**Part I: Council**

A hush fell over the Council Chamber as Celephindeth got to her feet. Grey eyes raked Thranduil. Then she said, voice loud and clear in the still room, "I call Legolas Thranduilion before this Council."

Thranduil nodded to one of the pages, who slipped out.

The Council waited in uncomfortable silence. They bickered and squabbled and schemed, but even the most cantankerous of them would normally draw the line at involving the warriors in their political games, especially now. Legolas, as Thranduil's heir, was somewhat less exempt than the others, but they all knew that he risked his life to keep them safe, and summoning him to be scolded like an Elfling who'd broken bounds was extreme.

Thranduil let out a breath when the door opened and Legolas, Saeldur and Aeroniel entered together. Aeroniel had not been due to return for two days, but it appeared Saeldur had managed to get a message to her.

Thranduil had expected no less. The archers were fiercely loyal to their beloved commander, and they would never dream of leaving him to face the Council alone. Especially not a Council that Celephindeth had summoned for the exclusive purpose of avenging herself for her son's death.

Legolas seemed less than steady on his feet. He was not protesting Saeldur's supporting hand on his back. Thranduil's eyes widened for a moment – he had looked in on Legolas that morning, and his son had not seemed _that _badly injured. The walk from the royal quarters across the stronghold to the Council Chamber must have done more damage than he had expected. Feredir would not be pleased about that – or about the fact that, judging by the small spots of blood on the front of his tunic, Legolas had apparently torn a couple of stitches.

Thorontur would have to a face a very angry son in the evening. It had been on his insistence that Thranduil had scheduled the hearing as soon as Celephindeth had made the demand, without giving Legolas even a day to recover from his injuries. Thorontur had felt it would make the Councillors feel sympathetic and guilty.

Judging by the flushes and sidelong glances he could see around the room, Thorontur had been right. All the same, he would have difficulty justifying himself to Feredir, who could be as ferocious as any warrior when it came to the wellbeing of his charges.

When they reached the centre of the room, Saeldur, after ascertaining that Legolas could stand without assistance, took a step back and to the right. Aeroniel mirrored his position on Legolas' other side. It was a gesture of solidarity that said more than all Thorontur's speeches could have done – especially, under the circumstances, coming from Saeldur.

Celephindeth's eyes were narrowed in anger. Before proceedings could begin, she snapped, "Saeldur!"

Saeldur turned to her. "Lady Celephindeth."

Thranduil winced for her. He felt no particular affection for her at the moment, but he knew better than anyone how difficult it was to hear your child address you by your formal title. And Saeldur's voice was cold.

"What are you _doing_?"

"I am standing with my brother-in-arms, my lady."

"That will do," Thorontur said, although Thranduil noted that he had given the Council a moment to absorb Saeldur's words first. Thorontur could be a consummate statesman when the need arose. "Saeldur, if you wish to address the King's Council, do so in the proper form."

"Forgive me, my lord," Saeldur said unrepentantly.

Thorontur turned to Legolas.

"Legolas Thranduilion."

"My lord," Legolas said quietly.

"You have been summoned before the King's Council to answer the charges laid against you by Celephindeth Thínoriel. It is alleged that you, by your negligence, caused the death of Candnaur Belegurion, and that, in defiance of our laws and common decency, you attempted to compel Saeldur Belegurion into battle against his will, without allowing him a period of mourning for his brother."

"He has taken one son from me!" burst Celephindeth. "And now he would take the other."

"Calm yourself, Celephindeth," Arbellason snapped. "You said you wanted satisfaction and we are here. Nobody will make Saeldur fight if he does not wish it."

Arbellason had not yet entirely forgiven Saeldur.

Saeldur must have sensed the unspoken reproof, because his cheeks were scarlet. His voice was steady, though, when he spoke.

"Legolas asks nothing of me that I do not give him willingly, my lord. I chose to be an archer."

Thorontur smiled. "Lady Celephindeth, have you anything to say?"

"This is absurd. You _cannot _listen to him! Saeldur is trying to protect Legolas."

There was a moment's silence, broken by Norgalad. "Lady Celephindeth," the diplomat asked, "are you accusing your son of perjuring himself before the Council?"

"He is trying to protect his friend. His intentions are honourable, but he is misguided."

"I speak only the truth!" Saeldur said angrily. "I _chose _to be an archer! You know this! Lord Thorontur knows this! I chose to be an archer, and since I am older than Legolas, he was not even of age when I made that choice! If anything, he might argue that _I _influenced _him_."

"You cannot deny that he would have forced you when you did not wish to fight. I _heard _him," Celephindeth snapped.

Shocked silence followed her words. Legolas and Saeldur looked at each other in bewilderment.

Finally Thorontur said, "What did you hear, Celephindeth?"

"Barely two weeks past, I heard Legolas attempt to browbeat Saeldur into taking the novices on their training rounds."

Legolas stiffened, exchanging another glance with Saeldur – one of horrified understanding, this time. Thranduil knew at once what Celephindeth meant – he had heard about it, after all. But she could not have been further from the truth.

Arbellason was gazing at the _elleth _with a mixture of disbelief and disgust. He knew what had happened as well, and everyone would make allowances for a mother's grief, but _this _was taking matters too far.

"Celephindeth," he said, and although his voice was light, Thranduil was not misled. "Do you truly want to discuss that now?"

"And why _not_?" she demanded.

"Because Legolas was not at fault," Saeldur said.

"What happened, then, Saeldur?" Norgalad asked.

"Legolas ordered me off patrol. I… was unhappy about that. And I fear I was unreasonable." Saeldur was flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and shame. Thranduil could see how much the admission cost him. "Legolas suggested the novice rounds because they would give me something to do without putting me in undue danger."

"But you wanted no part of them!" Celephindeth insisted.

Saeldur's flush deepened. "As I told him, and as you heard, my lady. And since, in the end, I did _not _take the novices on their training rounds, you can hardly suppose that he forced me to do anything."

"But –"

"_No!_" Saeldur snapped, and Thranduil could not bring himself to reprove him for the interruption. "If you want to call Legolas to account for what happened to Candnaur, that is your right and I cannot stop you. Although, I must confess, I am _astonished _that the King's Council could not bear to wait until Legolas could at least walk unaided."

"Saeldur!" Legolas protested.

Saeldur gave a curt nod. "As Legolas points out, it is not for the King's archers to question the will of his Council. It is your right to ascertain what happened to Candnaur. But do not expect me to have any part of this. I _chose _to be an archer. And, with all due respect to Lord Thorontur, I want no commanding officer other than Legolas. You will _not _use me as a weapon against him."

"Thank you, Saeldur," Thorontur said, directing a grim smile at the young Elf. "That will do. Unless anybody has any objections, we can, I think, dismiss Lady Celephindeth's second charge. That leaves us with the first."

Thranduil heard Legolas' sharp intake of breath, and more than anything he longed to say something in his son's defence. It went against both his wishes and his instincts to leave Legolas to fend for himself in what had the potential to deteriorate into a deeply unpleasant situation. But it would do more harm than good for him to interfere, especially if the Council thought he was biased. He was forced to trust Thorontur and Arbellason to handle it.

"He shot Candnaur!" Celephindeth burst. "Let him deny it!"

Legolas paled, but answered. "I do not deny it, Lady Celephindeth. I shot him. The only alternative was to let the Orcs have him, for we could not have rescued him with our numbers."

"You could have _tried_!"

"We would have failed," Legolas said, with the calm certainty of a warrior who had spent countless years defending his realm and his King with bow and blade. "He would have been taken in any case, and his torments would have been terrible."

"Why was he even there?"

"That was not Legolas' doing," Arbellason said. "Ellaurë was the one who gave Candnaur leave to go. And I knew of it as well."

Thranduil had a feeling that, had Ellaurë been in the stronghold, Celephindeth would have summoned her to stand right beside Legolas. She looked as though she longed to begin hurling abuse at Arbellason, but even she did not quite dare.

"Legolas gave him leave to stay, though, did he not?" another Elf asked.

Heads turned towards the speaker, a dark-haired Elf who looked at Legolas with a mixture of coldness and contempt.

"You seem knowledgeable for one who was not present, Míron," Arbellason said, equally coldly.

"My son told me this."

"Your son? Was Arahael present, then? Did he transfer from the Southern Guard to the Colhador without our knowledge?"

Míron glared at him. "He had it from Saeldur, who _was _present. And who, I imagine, can be expected to remember the events that led to his brother's death."

There was utter and complete silence, during which Saeldur squirmed under the weight of glares from Arbellason, Thorontur and Aeroniel. What made him lower his eyes to the polished stone floor, though, was Legolas' brief glance of horrified disbelief.

"Saeldur?" Thorontur asked. "Have you anything to say?"

"There is no need, my lord," Legolas said tightly. "I was not pleased that Candnaur came, but I _did _give him leave to stay."

"Why?" Norgalad asked.

"Under the circumstances, I could ill spare a warrior to escort him back. I thought he would be safer with us than attempting to return through the forest alone. It was only the grace of Elbereth that let him reach our camp safely. The area was overrun with Orcs."

"Had you told him to return to the stronghold, the grace of Elbereth may have kept him safer than you could."

"The grace of Elbereth may do many things we cannot, my lord. We are only Elves. I did what I thought was best."

"What you thought was best for Candnaur?" Míron asked. "Or what you thought was best for _you_?"

"I have not the honour of understanding you," Legolas got out.

"Candnaur was the King's heir before you were born. And it is no secret that many of us would consider him far more… suitable… than the whelp of a Wood-elf."

Thranduil's eyes blazed, but before he could say anything, Thorontur said, in a voice that conveyed a world of menace, "Speak a single word against the memory of our Queen again, Lord Míron, and I will not be answerable for my actions. If you have anything to say that is worthy of this Council's attention, say it. We do not summon our warriors to listen to idle speculation and baseless accusations."

"Arahael has told me Saeldur thinks –"

"Lord Míron," Arbellason growled, "it may have escaped your notice that Saeldur is in this room. If this Council wants to know what Saeldur thinks, it will ask Saeldur. Do _you _have anything to say?"

"Only that I always knew no good would come of letting _Legolas _command the archers!"

"You sleep safer in your bed because the warriors hold our borders. You would do well not to speak of matters of which you know nothing, Míron."

Thorontur shot his friend a brief, warning glance.

"In any case," he said, "Legolas' fitness to command the archers is not the matter at issue."

"It is if it was his poor judgement that led to Candnaur's death. If he cannot be trusted to keep one Elf alive, how is he to be trusted with the King's archers?"

"We are at war, Lord Míron," Thorontur replied. "Each life lost is a tragedy, but, as Legolas pointed out, we are only Elves. We do all that we can, and sometimes that is not enough."

"I do not dispute that. I only question whether Legolas' judgement in this issue was clouded by his relationship with Candnaur."

"I had no quarrel with Candnaur," Legolas said.

"You barely knew him!" Celephindeth snapped.

"I knew him only as Saeldur's brother, my lady. He chose a different path from mine."

"Yes," Míron agreed. "And what influenced _your _path, Legolas? Only duty? Or were you misguided by the Kinslayers whose company you keep?"

"The sons of Elrond are my friends, but they have slain none of their kin, Lord Míron. My decisions are my own."

"Your _decision _killed my son!" Celephindeth snapped. "You let him stay with you, which was bad enough, but when he was captured you _shot _him."

"Because I _asked _him to!" Saeldur burst out. "Can you not see that it had to be done? We had no hope of rescuing him – the Orcs were too many. If they had taken him alive, his suffering at their hands would have been unimaginable. We would have done the same thing if one of us had been taken."

"_You _are warriors," Míron responded. "You chose this!"

"None of us _chooses _the life of a warrior, Míron," Arbellason said. "We do what we must _because _we must. When Candnaur asked to go to the warriors' camp, he knew the risks."

"Why Legolas, though?" Norgalad asked. "Even assuming that you wanted to spare Candnaur's suffering, Saeldur, why not do it yourself?"

"He was my brother, my lord. I could not have done it. And in any case, I had no clear line to him."

"So it was Legolas' shot?"

There was a moment's pause, during which there seemed to be silent communication between Legolas, Saeldur and Aeroniel. At last, Aeroniel, speaking for the first time, said reluctantly, "It was my shot, my lord."

"Then why did Legolas take it?"

"I did not want to risk it. Legolas' hand is steadier on the bow. Even without as clear a line as I had, I knew he would make a cleaner shot."

"And why was your hand so steady in the act of Kinslaying, Legolas?" Míron murmured. "It is an act most Elves would find abhorrent."

There was an instantaneous, horrified hush.

Thorontur broke it. "There is a limit to how much I will suffer one of my archers to be browbeaten, Míron, even for the sake of Celephindeth's right to answers. Be grateful that you have never seen a battlefield, or you would know something of the carnage and blood and fear that makes killing an act of mercy."

Míron glared straight back at the Archery Master. "I only ask because it is extraordinary how often Legolas' company appears to be fatal for his kin." Cold eyes turned on the Elf-prince. "I am not the only one who says so. His own second agrees with me, even if he will not admit it now. After all, we have only _his _word for it that the Queen whose memory this Council honours so highly was slain by the traitor Bregolien and not by his own hand."

Legolas flinched, even as Saeldur and Aeroniel stepped closer to him on either side.

Thranduil's fists clenched on the table, but before he could react, Arbellason put a warning hand on his arm.

Thorontur got to his feet. "This Council is in recess," he announced. "I will not have Legolas tormented like this for your amusement, Míron. Celephindeth, if you have any further questions about what happened to Candnaur, Legolas will return to discuss them with you this afternoon."

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	2. Recess

**Disclaimer:** Not one Elf.

Many thanks to ellisk, L.A.H.H, Miss Feanoriel, Dancing Chestnut, Glorelwen, No, candycanesrox101, GreenGreatDragon, Melethril and Floating Leaves for reviewing Chapter 1.

* * *

**Part II: Recess**

"Were you out of your mind, Saeldur?" Aeroniel snapped. "What possessed you to run to _Míron's son_ with your complaints? Are you the only one of us who somehow failed to realize that Míron and Arahael are not to be trusted?"

"I was foolish," Saeldur said, though he did not look at her, busying himself instead with crouching in front of Legolas and pushing his tunic up to examine his ribs.

He, Aeroniel, Rochendilwen and Legolas were in the Elf-prince's seldom-used study. It was near the Council Chamber, and none of them had been in any frame of mind to return to the warriors' quarters.

"Foolish?" Aeroniel asked incredulously. "_Foolish? _Is that all you have to say for yourself? This was not folly, Saeldur! For as much as Míron claims you said to Arahael, you could well be accused of fomenting sedition!"

"How much did you actually tell him, Saeldur?" Rochendilwen demanded. When Saeldur looked up long enough to glare at her, she went on, "We must know. Then at least we will know what else to expect. Did you say _anything _to him about the Queen or –?"

"Do you think I would have done?" Saeldur demanded angrily.

"A month ago I would not have thought you would have forced Legolas into battle injured because you were throwing a tantrum! Elbereth help me, Saeldur, if you said one _word _to Arahael accusing Legolas of Kinslaying –"

"I did not!" Saeldur turned to Legolas. "You _cannot _believe I would betray you like that."

Legolas sighed. Much as he wanted to reassure his friend, at that moment he did not know what to think.

"Tell me what to believe, Saeldur."

Saeldur, who had not been expecting that answer, stared at him in shock for a moment. Then he straightened enough to rest his arms on Legolas' knees and look his friend in the eye.

"I told Arahael that you and Lord Thorontur would not let me fight. I told him that I feared you did not trust me. He asked me why. I said I should be trusted to know my readiness for battle better than you and Lord Thorontur did." He paused, biting his lip. "He said I might have been better off had I… not had you as my commanding officer. I… I did not refute it." Legolas' expression shuttered, and Saeldur reached for his hands. "I was not thinking, Legolas! Please. My bow is_ yours_. It has always been yours. You know that. _Please. _Do not hold what I said in grief against me."

"So _now _you admit you were grieving?" Rochendilwen muttered.

"What would you have me say, Rochendilwen? I was wrong, and grievously so. And _Legolas _has suffered for it. Do you think _anything _could be more of a punishment to me than this?"

She met his eyes for a moment, and then she nodded. "I did warn you."

"You did, and I should have heeded you. I was consumed by grief and guilt and I said more than I should have done to Arahael." He turned back to Legolas. "But I did _not _accuse you of Kinslaying –"

"You accused him of having felt threatened by Candnaur," Rochendilwen pointed out. "In my presence, I might add."

"What he said to Legolas in your presence is regrettable," Aeroniel interjected, "but we can worry about that later. It would have been better if he had said far more in your presence and far less in Arahael's. What we must know _now _is what more we can expect from Arahael and Míron. Saeldur –"

She broke off when someone rapped sharply on the door.

Saeldur got to his feet, helping Legolas up, as Rochendilwen went to open it.

Lord Míron stood outside.

"Well, well," he said, with an unpleasant smile at Rochendilwen. "An Elf of the darkness. You _do _keep extraordinary company, Legolas."

"Is there some way I may be of service, Lord Míron?" Legolas asked curtly. "Or have you come here to insult my archers?"

"I think the very fact that they are forced to serve under the brat of a Wood-elf is insult enough. For some of them anyway," he added, sneering at Rochendilwen. He took a step closer to Legolas. "It is hardly surprising that our troops have been pushed back at every border if _this _is how we lead them. If you did not look so remarkably like Thranduil, I would doubt –"

He stopped speaking abruptly when Saeldur took an angry step forward, hand going to the hilt of one of the knives tucked into his belt.

"Please continue, Lord Míron," Saeldur said lightly. "We are _eager _to hear what you have to say."

"Saeldur." Legolas' voice was quiet, but firm. Saeldur lowered his hand, but he did not step back. "Is there a reason you are here, Lord Míron?"

"As it happens, Legolas, there is. You will have to forgive my distraction. I was insufficiently prepared to encounter the halfblooded filth that masquerades as the youth of the Sindar." Míron met Saeldur's glare with a tranquil smile. "Your mother wishes to speak to you, Saeldur. She thought you might be here, but she was understandably reluctant to subject herself to the society of… Well, we need say no more of that. Saeldur."

"I will go nowhere with you," Saeldur snapped.

"Lady Celephindeth asks for you, Saeldur."

"Go, Saeldur," Legolas said.

Saeldur turned to him. "Legolas, please –"

"I am not sending you away, Saeldur. Go find out what your mother wants of you. I think we will leave as well. Aeroniel and Rochendilwen are both in dire need of rest before this afternoon, and I must speak to the King." Saeldur still looked a little unsure, so Legolas pulled him aside to murmur, "Go with him, please, Saeldur. I do not want to give the Council more cause for complaint. I will see you afterwards."

Saeldur met his eyes, nodded, and left, Míron following.

"_Do_ you want us to leave?" Rochendilwen asked when the door had closed behind them.

"You should get some rest, both of you. There is little you can do here. There is little any of us can do about any of this until we know what Lady Celephindeth intends."

"And Míron?" Aeroniel asked.

"What of him? He has never been fond of me. He can abuse me all he pleases, but unless he has a legitimate complaint, there is little harm he can do."

"I fear you speak to soon, Legolas. His son tried to turn Saeldur against you. And he came close. What he has tried once…" Aeroniel looked at Rochendilwen for help. "I am not saying you should not trust Saeldur, Legolas, but…"

"What would you have me do?"

"Be careful," Rochendilwen said. "Saeldur would never knowingly betray you, Legolas, no matter how much he was grieving – we all know that. But Arahael is clever. We have seen evidence of it. If he and his father can find the smallest chance to do you harm, they will take it."

"That has been true for centuries," Legolas pointed out. "What has changed now?"

"_Now_ they know something of which they could not have been certain earlier," Aeroniel said soberly. "That the most loyal of friends might do unknowingly what they would not under any inducement do willingly."

"We will leave you now." Rochendilwen patted his shoulder. "Your father will want to speak to you, and I do not doubt that he is waiting down the corridor desiring our absence so that he may come in and see for himself that you are well. But, Legolas, think on what we have said."

The _ellith _left.

As Rochendilwen had predicted, not a moment later, there was a knock on the door. When Legolas opened it, he was confronted by his father and Thorontur.

"Are you all right, Elfling?" Thorontur asked without preamble.

"I am well, my lord. Are you not needed in Council?"

"The Council is in recess," Thranduil growled. "Celephindeth left –"

"I think she was ashamed," Thorontur added. "She never intended matters to go as far as they did. That was fully Míron's doing."

"That misbegotten son of –"

"_Thranduil!_"

"I can curse before Legolas _now_, Thorontur. He is old enough."

"Thranduil, for what you planned to say, not even _you _are old enough." After a pause, Thorontur added, "I do not say I disagree with the _sentiment_. We would all have been happier if Míron had taken ship to the Blessed Realm after the Dagorlad. Or if he had been sent there in irons. Either would have done. We saw him coming here, Legolas. What did he want?"

"He came to take Saeldur to Lady Celephindeth," Legolas said.

"And to continue what he started in the Council Chamber, I do not doubt," Thranduil muttered. "He makes Norgalad seem reasonable!"

Thorontur laughed, but he sobered quickly. "Do not let him upset you, Legolas. He has always been a fool, and the Council knows better than to believe a word spoken by him – or any of his friends!"

"Saeldur believed him," Legolas said quietly. "There will be others who do."

"I doubt Saeldur truly believed a word Arahael said – and certainly not anything he said about your mother, Legolas. Saeldur _heard _what he said and tried to provoke you with it. That was all. You do not doubt him, do you?"

"I… no," Legolas said. Then, more firmly, "_No. _If I cannot trust Saeldur, I cannot trust a single one of my archers."

Thranduil smiled and patted his shoulder. "We will be with you, Legolas, as will your friends. I would dearly love to send Míron to Mandos for what he has said today, but Thorontur tells me that would cause comment in the Council."

"It would be pointless to kill him. It would make people feel sorry for him. I still say you should let me have him for archery training," Thorontur muttered. "Just for a month, Thranduil, a year at most, and at the end of it he will know not to waste the time of our warriors with ridiculous accusations and groundless threats."

Legolas laughed, and Thranduil and Thorontur exchanged a pleased glance.

"I told you he could still laugh," Thorontur said.

"And I did not doubt you for a moment," Thranduil assured him. "But it is nice to see all the same." He took Legolas by the shoulders. "You are my heart's joy, _penneth_. Never doubt that. The day does not pass when I do not thank Elbereth that you were spared to me – you could so easily have been killed with Lindariel. I could not have borne to lose you both."

"Do not be troubled about Míron," Thorontur added. "All he has done is make the Council regard you with greater sympathy."

Legolas would have responded, but a sharp rap on the door interrupted him.

Thranduil raised his eyebrows. "I do not believe your study has been used as much in the last thirty years as it has in the last thirty minutes, Legolas."

Thorontur opened the door to let Arbellason in.

"Are you all right, Elfling?" he asked, looking Legolas over critically. "You look well enough, though Feredir will not be pleased that you have torn your stitches again. I do not envy you, Thorontur. Your son will not soon forgive you for this."

"My son has still not forgiven me for letting Legolas go to Ellaurë before he had recovered. And just last night Celebwen was kind enough to remind me of the time I sent him on patrol with broken ribs, four summers ago. Those who think warriors are violent have no experience of the grudges healers can bear against those who hinder the recovery of their patients."

"You had best go to the Healing Wards now, Legolas," Arbellason told the Elf-prince. "We can try to spare Thorontur from some of Feredir's anger."

"Nothing can do that today," Thorontur said grimly. "Until I induce Celephindeth to give up her complaint, I must be resigned to the displeasure of my wife and children. The sooner we get this over with, the better. But Arbellason is not wrong, Elfling –"

"Truly?" Arbellason asked. "I never imagined I would hear you admit that I was right."

"I did not say you were right. I said you were not wrong. I have sent for Feredir, Legolas. There is no need for you to walk all the way to the Healing Wards now when you must return in the afternoon in any case."

"I am not an invalid, Lord Thorontur."

"No, Legolas, and I have no desire to be one, which is why neither of us is going to do anything to displease the healers. And now we must return to the Council. It is dangerous to leave those fools to their own devices for too long. We will see you later."

Legolas expected to be left to himself after the three older Elves left, at least until Saeldur returned after seeing his mother. That might take some time; Lady Celephindeth did not often attend sessions of the Council, and had attended that morning's only to see her grievance addressed. She would, no doubt, return in the afternoon, but until then he expected her to use the time to persuade Saeldur to speak against him before the Council.

Legolas sighed. He did not for a moment suppose that any argument Lady Celephindeth might make would persuade Saeldur to turn against him, but the entire situation was unpleasant.

He was startled from his thoughts by a knock on the door.

He frowned. Saeldur could not have returned already. Perhaps it was Feredir here to scold him for tearing his stitches.

But when Legolas opened the door, he saw Lord Míron.

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	3. Accusations

**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to the Professor.

Thanks to DancingChestnut, Raisinet, Miss Feanoriel, Lucy-lulu12, XxNaiXx, Glorelwen, Melethril, Mir, LAHH, Birdy, Laureiel, and candycanesrox101 for the reviews.

* * *

**Part III: Accusations**

"Lord Míron." Legolas could not imagine what the older Elf wanted with him. "Saeldur is not here."

"He is still with his mother," Míron said. "As he _should _be," he added, sweeping past the startled archer into the room without waiting for an invitation. "I wanted to speak to you, Legolas."

"Of course, my lord. How may I help you?"

"I had some questions for you." Míron stalked to the window, looked out, and made a face at whoever might have been watching him from the courtyard. Then he turned back to Legolas. "What happened the night the Queen died?"

Whatever Legolas had been expecting, it had not been that.

"Lord Míron, I do not –"

"It strikes me, Legolas," Míron interrupted, voice getting colder with each word, "that when Queen Lindariel was killed, we heard both Eredhion and Voronwë give their accounts of what happened, but nobody, except perhaps the children of Elrond and Celebrían in Imladris, demanded answers from _you_."

"Lord Míron, I –"

"Tell me, Legolas. Who killed Lindariel?"

Legolas found his tongue. "Bregolien did," he said, and he was pleased that his voice only shook a little. "Lord Míron, if you have nothing else to ask, I must insist –"

"Bregolien did?" Míron interrupted. "What proof is there of that? Your word, and the testimony of two of your closest friends. Under any other circumstances, that would hardly be considered ironclad evidence. The King's Council is seldom so careless in its inquiries."

"Lord Míron –"

"Is _that _why you could so easily kill Candnaur without a thought, Legolas? If Lindariel died by _your _blade, you probably would not even consider Candnaur's murder kinslaying, would you?" Míron stepped closer, cold grey eyes boring into Legolas. "Tell the truth, Legolas. Did you kill her?"

"Lord Míron, I must insist that you leave."

Míron ignored him so completely, he might as well not have spoken.

"What happened that night? We did not see you for weeks afterward. Thorontur said at the time you were injured and had to be taken to Elrond. Was that true? Or were you just biding your time in Imladris until everyone forgot your crime? Which was it?" Míron was uncomfortably close. "What really happened to our beloved Elven-queen?"

Míron, it appeared, did not intend to listen to reason. Legolas wanted to avoid getting into an argument with a member of his father's Council, and so he was supremely grateful when there was a knock on the door.

"Come!" he called. He had no idea who it was, but anything would be better than this.

He almost laughed at the sight of Feredir.

Feredir, for his part, looked from Legolas to Míron with a frown that threatened to turn into more. "Is something wrong?"

"Not in the least," Míron said easily. "I had some questions to ask of Legolas. I was just leaving. It is a pleasant surprise to see you outside the Healing Wards, Thoronturion."

Legolas slumped in relief when the Elf-lord left.

"Sit, Legolas." Feredir pushed him into a chair. "And let me see how much damage you have done yourself."

"Saeldur cleaned it," Legolas offered, as Feredir undid his tunic and examined the stitches.

"He did a fair job," Feredir opined. "Saeldur has a steady hand, and not just on the bow. You were fortunate, Legolas. Running off like you did, going into battle without waiting for the wound to heal – you could have been far more seriously hurt."

"Elbereth was watching over us." Legolas' voice was sober. "We lost nobody."

"What did Míron want?"

"He wanted to know if I killed my mother."

"_What?_"

"Be easy, Feredir," Legolas said with a sigh. "He already asked me that in the Council Chamber."

"And he came here to ask it again? Did he expect a different reply?"

"I do not know what he expected. I received the impression that he intends to ask it in Council in the afternoon, and again every day if he can, until I give him a satisfactory answer."

"And what would that be?"

"Proof, I suppose."

"_Proof?_"

"Which I can hardly provide," Legolas went on, barely wincing when Feredir rubbed the stitches with something that stung. "It has been so long. And I was only half-conscious for most of it."

"You were… Legolas." Feredir took a step back to look Legolas in the eye. "What are you saying? Legolas, you do not have to provide Míron with proof of anything, least of all that! The Council would never permit him to – if they knew – he has no right. Legolas. He has _no right _to make such vile accusations, especially with no evidence beyond what his own twisted mind can conjure."

"I know. I know, and my father would be furious if he heard – and so would your father – but what am I to do? I cannot listen to more of this."

"Listen to more of what?" Saeldur's voice asked.

Legolas glanced up to smile at his friend, who had come in without knocking.

"Did Lady Celephindeth release you so soon? It took less time than I expected."

"Because my mother did not send for me. I do not know what Míron was thinking. He must have misheard her." He drew up a chair and sat. "I must confess I am relieved. I feared she would bid me speak against you – and I know you did as well. I would never have done it, but it would have been a difficult situation. But I should have known better. No matter what my mother's views are, she would not ask me to turn against my brother-in-arms. Especially not after this morning. And now answer my question."

"Míron was here," Feredir said, when Legolas hesitated.

Saeldur's eyes darkened. "Again? I should feed him to a giant spider. He will know better than to – you are not taking his words to heart, Legolas?"

"Legolas," Feredir growled, "seems to believe that if Councillors of the Realm make mean-spirited accusations, the burden of proof is on _him_. Perhaps _you _can make him see sense, Saeldur."

Legolas shook his head, partly to ward off any speculation about whether they really could feed Míron to a giant spider without getting caught, but mainly to clear his mind of the pictures that were suddenly crowding it. He had few coherent memories of that fateful night. It had been centuries ago, and he had been half-dead from exhaustion and poison. For the most part he managed to suppress unpleasant recollections.

But sometimes… Sometimes, alone in the night, he could hear the clash of steel on steel and the grumbling thunder and his mother's screaming. Sometimes it felt as though the poison that had pushed him to the brink of death was still in his blood, setting his veins on fire.

Sometimes the grief and guilt that he thought had faded with time clutched at his chest with ice-cold fingers so that he could barely breathe.

He felt Saeldur's fingers close around his arm and he was heaved to his feet.

"Where are you taking him?" Feredir asked in alarm. "I do not want him exerting himself."

"We are not going far. The warriors' quarters are closer than the Healing Wards, and at least I may legitimately refuse Míron entry to my room on no grounds other than that I dislike the sight of his face."

"The _ellith _consider Míron handsome," Feredir said with a wry smile.

"Not after I have finished with him."

Legolas laughed and allowed himself to be led away.

Lunch in the main hall, with the merry chatter and laughter of the archers to dispel unpleasant thoughts, cheered Legolas immensely. Feredir's fears notwithstanding, the walking had done him little damage. His ribs were healing well. It was with a far lighter heart that he, accompanied by Saeldur and Aeroniel, returned to the Council Chamber afterwards.

At first it seemed that the worst was over. Most of the Councillors clearly felt uncomfortable about the events of the morning. None of them would quite meet Legolas' eyes, and nobody wanted to ask difficult questions. Even Norgalad, who would normally have seized any opportunity to force Legolas to prove his fitness for his position, contented himself with remarking that it was a dark day if the safety of the King's subjects could not be assured under the boughs of Greenwood.

And then, just as it appeared that the Council would dismiss Celephindeth's charges and absolve Legolas, Míron indicated that he wanted to speak.

"Elbereth," Legolas murmured under his breath.

Saeldur and Aeroniel stepped closer to him on either side, Aeroniel laying a hand on his back as she did. Thorontur frowned at the breach in protocol, but he said nothing about it.

"Do you have something to ask Legolas, Lord Míron?" Thorontur asked coldly.

"I have a very important question for him."

"About the matter at hand."

"About the death of Candnaur, yes. The only proof that he _intended _no harm by permitting Candnaur to stay in the warriors' camp is his own word –"

"And the only proof otherwise is your word," Arbellason said impatiently. "If you wish to waste the time of this Council, Míron, waste it in some way that does not require us to summon our warriors when they are injured, tired, and should be resting."

"There is more than just my lack of blind faith to suggest that Legolas is lying. Have we not done this before?"

"I fail to understand you, Lord Míron," Thorontur said. "What have we done before?"

"I ask you again, my lords, my ladies, how did our Queen die? Which of us was there when it happened to attest to the fact that it was not Legolas' hand that killed Lindariel? Which of us has even heard his account of it? I have always believed –"

"Be _silent_!" Saeldur snapped. Ignoring Legolas' restraining hand and Thorontur's protest, he stepped in front of his friend. "One more _word _from you on this subject, Lord Míron, and I will make you regret it."

"Saeldur," Thorontur reproved.

"Oh, do not blame _him_, Thorontur." Míron's voice was light and pleasant. "What can we expect of the young lords of the Sindar, when we force them to keep such company? However, Saeldur's lack of respect for protocol aside, I maintain that it is a valid question. You want to believe Legolas, Thorontur, because you believe it unthinkable that anybody would willingly cause the death of another Elf, let alone a kinsman. But if Legolas has done it before…"

"That will _do_."

"All I suggest is that we hear Legolas' account of what happened that night, here and now. After all, we were all present at Bregolien's trial, and we all heard Eredhion and Voronwë speak. If Legolas speaks, now, and his account is consistent with theirs –"

"You expect Legolas to describe to you accurately an event that happened centuries ago, while he was severely injured, poisoned, and barely alive?" asked Mídhaer, Rochendilwen's aunt and the commander of the Western Guard. "You expect a great deal, Míron."

"He may have been injured, but he remembers enough. We all know that. Is that not true, Legolas?"

"Lord Míron, I do not –"

"Is that not why you dislike thunderstorms? Because there was one on the night your mother died? The warriors say you throw yourself into patrols and training whenever there are signs of a storm that will rage fiercely enough to remind you of that night. If you can hear Lindariel's screaming in the thunder, what else can you hear? What else do you remember?"

"My lord –"

"Do you remember whether her blood was on your hands, Legolas? Do you remember the last words she said to you?"

"_Míron!_" Thranduil was on his feet, and his voice cracked through the air like a whip. He had not spoken in all this time, but he could sit silent no longer. "I will not tolerate this in my Council Chamber! I would not suffer a scullion to be treated like this. If you have evidence of any wrongdoing, present it. If not, do not waste the Council's time any further."

"Of course, my king." Míron bowed. "Forgive me."

Legolas barely registered Saeldur pulling him out.

"Outdoors," Aeroniel hissed from his other side. "I want to be as far away from Míron as possible, or I might forget my oath to defend the King's subjects and do him harm. If we go to Legolas' study he will only follow us."

"Feredir will not be pleased with us if we take Legolas outside."

"I would take Feredir's displeasure over the possibility of letting Míron upset Legolas further."

"I hope the two of you realize I am here," Legolas said. "You need not speak of me as though I am an Elfling who is afraid of Orcs in the dark."

"You _are_ an Elfling," Saeldur teased. Then he added seriously, "And, in all truth, Míron frightens me far more than any Orc or spider ever did. A bow is no defence against one as malicious as he is. In any case, it will be far more pleasant outside than indoors."

"We can go to the green," Aeroniel suggested. "There will be singing. Not that any of us is of any mind to sing, but we can listen. It will be something of a distraction."

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	4. Evening

**Disclaimer:** Not one Elf.

Thanks to DancingChestnut, L.A.H.H, Mir, Raisinet, XxNaiXx, emi, Melethril, GreenGreatDragon, ellisk and candycanesrox101 for the reviews.

* * *

**Part IV: Evening**

"_Do not try it. You are not strong enough."_

_There was darkness, and a face, and voices he could not quite identify. And fear. Above all else, the air was thick with the scent of fear._

"_My lady, I think he is fading. He needs healers."_

_He was trying to speak, but his tongue was too heavy and his head was full of wool. And he hurt. His very bones were on fire._

_It was important, though. He had to find the strength to warn her. He had to –_

Legolas was jolted from his dreams. He shifted as his eyes focused, feeling the breeze of the autumn evening on his face – it had been night, in his dream, a dark, cloudy, distant night.

"Legolas?" Saeldur's voice said.

Legolas raised his head from where it had been resting on his friend's shoulder. He had not been walking the dream-paths long. The setting sun had been painting the sky a dazzling orange when he had drifted off, slumping against Saeldur, and its light had not yet fully faded.

He mumbled an apology, but Saeldur shook his head. "You need the rest. I would be happy if you were _getting _it instead of having nightmares."

Legolas laughed mirthlessly as he sat up.

"I doubt there will be peaceful dreams for me tonight."

"I suppose not." Saeldur glared in the general direction of the stronghold. "Míron had best hope that he and I do not meet alone in the forest, or he might find himself _accidentally _falling into a spider's nest."

Legolas laughed again.

"Are they still singing drinking songs?" he asked, nodding in the direction of the cluster of Elves gathered in the middle of the green.

"Save those actually _on _duty, there is not a single sober warrior anywhere near the stronghold at this time."

"You are sober," Legolas pointed out.

"I am on active duty." At Legolas' raised eyebrow, he added, "Elfling-minding duty."

Legolas glared, and they probably would have settled the issue with a mock-wrestling match (and earned Feredir's displeasure in the process) if a throat had not been cleared behind them.

They turned to see Arbellason.

"No need," the older Elf said, waving them down when they started to get to their feet. "I only came to enquire if you would be averse to the company of an old and world-weary warrior."

"I do not see any such," said Legolas. "But if you are willing to offer us _your_ company, we would welcome it."

Arbellason smiled, dropping to the grass beside them.

"It is a nice evening for merrymaking. Though I notice that neither of you has joined it."

"No wine for Legolas," replied Saeldur. "I want Feredir to give him a sleeping draught tonight, and he will not do it if Legolas has been in his cups."

"We should have an archery contest," Arbellason mused. "The archers need some release, and I know everybody else will welcome the diversion. It has been many months since we last wagered on your bows. Perhaps in a week or two."

"Have it tomorrow," Saeldur suggested. "Then one of us might stand a chance of out-shooting Legolas. The wagers will be far more interesting."

"It would take a braver Elf than I am to suggest such a thing to Feredir. I would pay in gold to go home with Thorontur tonight – I am given to understand that Feredir told Celebwen something of what Míron –" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "I am sorry, Legolas. I did not intend to remind you of that."

Legolas smiled. "You need have no fear for me, Lord Arbellason. I do not intend to let Lord Míron spoil my peace further."

"I am relieved to hear it." Arbellason got to his feet. "Since I am neither to be given a sleeping draught nor on Elfling-minding duty, I am going to get some wine. I _need _it after the day I have had."

Legolas and Saeldur watched him go. There was some confusion, and much flustered bowing, when he reached the group of young warriors clustered around the barrels of wine. Drunk they might be, but Arbellason was the commander of the army, and most of them were terrified of him.

Arbellason, who understood them well enough not to stay to talk to them and make them uncomfortable, picked up a goblet and started to come back to Legolas and Saeldur, but he was intercepted by Norgalad. Council had ended, and the Councillors, no doubt as eager as Legolas, Saeldur and Aeroniel had been to go outdoors after a long day inside, were coming onto the green.

"If we stay very still," Saeldur hissed in Legolas' ear, "nobody will see us."

"If we had been dressed for battle, perhaps," Legolas whispered back. "But formal tunics are not very useful for hiding among the trees."

"We should have our formal tunics made in green next time. I think Norgalad has spotted us."

"There is no help for it," Legolas said. "We must face him."

"Courage, my prince! This may be a fiercer foe than any Orc, but we will prevail!"

"Saeldur!" Legolas protested, laughing, as they got up to greet Norgalad, who was making his way to them across the grass.

"Legolas," Norgalad said, with the brief nod that was the closest he ever came to friendliness. "Saeldur. I… It is a pleasant evening."

"Indeed, my lord," Legolas agreed, because Saeldur, who was eyeing Norgalad with barely-concealed suspicion, was clearly not going to say anything. "How may we be of service?"

"I… Oh. I did not… Are you on duty? You have no wine."

"Legolas is forbidden wine until he has healed," Saeldur said coldly.

It was not strictly true – Feredir would disapprove of his drinking, but it was not actually forbidden unless he had taken a sleeping draught, which he had not yet done – but Legolas did not bother to correct Saeldur.

Norgalad flushed. "Of course. I – I did not realize. How – how long –"

"Legolas!"

Legolas turned at the sound of the urgent voice, hands instinctively reaching for his bow before remembering that, in deference to the Council (and Feredir's orders), he had left it in his room. Saeldur did not have his bow either, but he had his knives tucked into his belt, and Legolas knew he was ready to draw them at a moment's notice.

Míron was hurrying towards them.

Legolas bit back a sigh.

The Elf-lord did not bother with a greeting when he reached them.

"Legolas," he said abruptly. "We could not finish our conversation this afternoon. I have much to discuss with you."

Saeldur glared at him. "Lord Míron, with all due respect –"

"Saeldur!" Norgalad said sharply. Saeldur subsided with a glower. Norgalad gave him an approving nod, before turning to the older Elf. "Míron, with all due respect, Orcs are less cruel than you are. Have you not tormented the boy enough for one day?"

"Do you think I ask him this for my own amusement? I can think of far more entertaining topics of conversation than the fate of an _elleth _who has been dead for centuries."

Legolas flinched.

He felt the warm weight of Saeldur's hand on his arm, and his friend said, "If you are that eager to know what happened, I am sure Eredhion and Voronwë can be persuaded to discuss it with you, Lord Míron. With your leave, I will tell them to speak to you in the morning."

"I have heard _their_ account of what happened."

"Míron," Norgalad said, "perhaps this can be done later. We have all had a most trying day. You have, as you just said, waited centuries without hearing Legolas' account of the Queen's death. Another week will make no difference."

"Perhaps." Míron glanced from Legolas to Saeldur speculatively. "Or perhaps _you _can tell me, Saeldur."

Saeldur's eyes darkened. "I was not there, my lord."

"No. All the same… I assumed, as we all did, that only the sons of Elrond heard what happened from Legolas' own lips. Thranduil, after all, has always said Legolas volunteered no information and he asked for none. He heard enough, from Bregolien himself, and from Eredhion and Voronwë, to satisfy him. That, I daresay, is true. I would not go so far as to accuse the King of lying."

"It is well to know there is something at which even you would balk," Saeldur muttered under his breath.

Legolas, despite himself, almost smiled.

"Doubtless," agreed Míron, unperturbed. "I daresay Thranduil is satisfied. It strikes me, though, that if Legolas _had _told only one Elf in all of Greenwood what happened, it would not be the King. He would not want to add to his father's grief. But _you_, Saeldur, are his trusted friend, his fellow archer. I would wager you know more about the matter than any of us."

Saeldur drew himself up.

"_If_ Legolas told me _anything _in confidence," he hissed, "as my friend, as my brother-in-arms, or as my commanding officer, you may be certain that I would never betray his trust."

"Was it only a few days ago I heard you telling my son –"

"I was wrong," Saeldur said. "In the past weeks I have done many things which I regret now. My brother is dead, and it is only the grace of Elbereth that brought Legolas home without more serious injury. Had I chosen differently, they might both have been safe and well. My faith might have wavered, Lord Míron, but never my loyalty."

"What of your loyalty to the realm? Or do you have no allegiance to Greenwood?"

"Lord Míron," Legolas cut in firmly, "the King's archers are not to be thus insulted."

"_You _call them the King's archers," Míron said coolly. "But _they _call themselves _your _archers."

"Is there a difference?" Saeldur asked. "Legolas owes fealty to the King."

"Fealty does not mean the same to half-breed Wood-elves as it does to those such as you and I, Saeldur."

"Saeldur! _No!_" Legolas caught his friend's arm just before he could seize his knives. "Do not let him provoke you."

"You should be happy I swore to obey Legolas, Lord Míron," Saeldur snarled. "Nothing else could have stayed my hand. And, since you brought up the issue of my warrior's oaths, my duty is to _Prince_ Legolas, Lord Thorontur, Lord Arbellason and the King. I do not answer to anybody else, and I certainly do not answer to _you_."

"As you wish. Oh, look, Saeldur." Míron's words were sliding over each other like butter. "I believe your mother does not appreciate drinking songs."

Legolas followed the direction of the Elf-lord's gaze.

Celephindeth was speaking to the young warriors who were singing. Whatever she was telling them, it seemed they agreed, because they nodded, eyes brimming over with sympathy as they patted her arm.

Legolas glanced at Saeldur, hoping Celephindeth had not suggested they sing for Candnaur. He did not think so – it was far too soon. He hoped not, anyway. He doubted Saeldur could stand to listen to them now.

When one of the Elves began strumming a lute, playing the sweet, sad music of a lament, Legolas moved closer to his friend.

When the singing began, though, it was not about Candnaur.

It took Legolas a moment to recognize the song – one of the many, many laments that the Elves of Eryn Galen had written to the memory of their fallen Queen.

He drew in a sharp breath.

It was too much. He could not –

Elbereth!

He hated listening to laments for his mother. The grief was too near. The grief would _always _be too near, and all the laments did was remind him of the sorrow he had never forgotten and the guilt he would always have for what had happened. Today, after the Council, after Míron's questions and accusations, after everything, it was _too much_.

He was barely conscious of pulling away from his companions until Saeldur reached for him.

"Legolas –"

"_No._" Legolas backed away, begging Saeldur with his eyes to understand. "I cannot."

"Legolas, I know. We do not have to stay here." Saeldur nodded at the two older Elves with the merest veneer of politeness. "If you will excuse us, my lords."

Legolas was scarcely aware of where Saeldur was taking him until they were at the door leading inside the stronghold and he heard Feredir's startled voice say, "Saeldur? What is it? Is he –"

"Míron," Saeldur growled, making the name sound like an insult. "He decided he had _more questions _for Legolas. And then my mother, for what reason I cannot imagine, chose that moment to encourage those drunken fools to sing laments." At Feredir's questioning glance, he added, "For the Queen."

Feredir swore under his breath.

"I think we have all had an active enough day. Legolas – have you been drinking?"

"Saeldur would not permit it."

"Saeldur shows good sense. I will give you a sleeping draught."

"_No._"

"Legolas –"

"No," Legolas repeated. "I cannot – not now. _Please._"

"What do you want to do, then?" Saeldur asked. "I suppose we could sort out the duty rosters for next week, if you want something to take your mind off Míron."

Legolas shook his head. "Spar with me."

Feredir's brows drew together. "No. There will be no sparring."

"Please. Saeldur is right, I need to think of something else, but the duty rosters will not be enough. We will be careful." Feredir hesitated, and he said again, "_Please._"

Feredir turned to Saeldur. "He is still injured."

"I will be careful," Saeldur promised.

"I mean – Arahael!" Feredir's scowl deepened at the sight of the other Elf, who was coming down the corridor that led to the warriors' halls. "What are you doing here? I thought you were not on duty."

"I am not, until Lord Bercalion returns from the border," Arahael confirmed. "I was on an errand for Lord Îdhron. Are you well, Legolas? You look pale. Perhaps the burden of your duties grows too heavy for you."

Saeldur scowled. "Your father is on the green, Arahael. I do not doubt he will welcome your company."

Arahael smiled as he backed away. "Forgive me. I meant no offence."

Feredir looked after him for a moment. Then he turned to Saeldur. "If I consent to this, you _will _be careful."

"You do not have to tell me that!" Saeldur said indignantly. "I will let him try his strength against me until he exhausts himself. That is all."

"Be _careful_," Feredir repeated.

Legolas nodded. "We will."

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	5. Sparring

**Disclaimer:** Not one Elf.

Many thanks to Glorelwen, emi, A-Z-animal-freak, Melethril, Pony Love, cheekybeak, Mir, AsianTwinkiesFTW, DancingChestnut, L.A.H.H, Me, candycanesrox101 and lauren hedgehog for the reviews!

* * *

**Part V: Sparring**

Feredir was normally a peaceable young Elf. He hated confrontations. He could be fierce in the defence of his patients, and not even Legolas dared cross his orders too often, but he was not the type to make trouble without cause.

That was why Thranduil was astonished to see Thorontur's son march up to Celephindeth, who was speaking to one of the other courtiers, and say, without preamble, "I know you are grieving, Lady Celephindeth, and nobody has greater sympathy for you than I do, but _nothing _excuses this vindictiveness. Are you still not content?"

Thranduil, who had been occupied with a petitioner and had just reached the green, cast a questioning glance at Thorontur. Thorontur, who had arrived only moments before him, shrugged.

As one, they turned to Arbellason, who was watching with a set jaw and compressed lips, looking as though he agreed with Feredir and would say as much if decorum only permitted it.

"Is there something we should know?" Thranduil asked.

Feredir opened his mouth, but Arbellason interrupted him with, "Inside. I know you are angry, Feredir, but this is not the place."

"And was this the place to –"

"Feredir."

Feredir nodded stiffly. "As you say, Lord Arbellason. Inside."

Arbellason nodded. "Lady Celephindeth, if you will accompany us."

Celephindeth's expression was unreadable, but for the first time in weeks she did not seem openly hostile. She nodded to her husband to join her. As soon as Belegur was with them, Arbellason led the way inside.

He did not bother to go back to the far wing. Instead, he found an empty antechamber and ushered everyone into it.

"I had no idea it would upset him," Celephindeth said as soon as the door had shut.

"How could you not have known it would upset him?" Feredir snapped. "When has it _not _upset him?"

"Feredir," Thranduil said, "it would help if your father and I knew what has happened."

"_She _persuaded those drunken fools to begin singing laments for the Queen! In Legolas' presence! As though everything that he has endured today has not been enough and –"

"Feredir," Thorontur said, stopping him before he said something regrettable. "Thank you. I think we understand. Celephindeth… I understand your grief, as, I assure you, do Arbellason and Thranduil. But in the interests of the defence of the realm, the commander of the archers must be fit for duty as soon as possible, both mentally and physically. This must stop."

"I _know_!" Celephindeth sounded frustrated, but not angry. "I never intended matters to go as far as they did in the Council Chamber!"

"And what you did now?"

"I thought it might… help."

Thorontur frowned. "As Feredir says, Legolas has hated hearing the laments sung for Lindariel since the first one was written. I find it difficult to believe you thought it would comfort him."

"How many people know how the laments upset Legolas?" Thranduil asked. The last thing he wanted was to be fair, but he had a duty. "We do, and the warriors do. It is conceivable that Celephindeth did not."

"I had no idea," Celephindeth insisted. "Míron suggested it would help him."

"_Míron_ suggested?" Thranduil asked. "What has Míron to do with any of this?"

"Celephindeth told him she regretted what had passed," Belegur explained. "Thranduil, we grieve for our son, but believe me when I say that neither of us knew how acrimonious matters would grow in Council. Míron agreed that we had all allowed our emotions to get the better of us."

"I do not doubt he did," Arbellason muttered.

Thorontur frowned at his friend, who responded with an unrepentant shrug.

Celephindeth continued, "And Míron suggested that it might soothe Legolas, a little, to hear his mother's memory honoured. I had no reason to doubt him."

Thranduil, Thorontur and Arbellason exchanged a glance, deciding as one that there was no more to be had from Saeldur's parents.

"Thank you," Thranduil said, and if his voice was not as warm as it should have been, nobody protested. He might be King, but he was also a father.

As soon as Belegur and Celephindeth had gone, he turned to his friends. "Is she…?"

"Lying?" asked Thorontur. "I doubt it. Celephindeth is foolish, and she can be quick to anger, but she is not deceitful. Had she still thought Legolas was in need of chastisement, she would have said as much to your face."

"And Míron?"

Arbellason scoffed. "I believe in his repentance no more than I believe that Lindir and Erestor had nothing to do with the poplar incident. Míron is malicious and he has never had any love for Legolas."

"That is exactly what concerns me," Thranduil said. "He has _never _had any love for Legolas, but this is the first time he has gone out of his way to be vicious. Legolas has had to report defeats to the Council before. Why choose this occasion to accuse him of Kinslaying? And why bring up… Lindariel… _now_?"

"Perhaps because Candnaur's death gave him an excuse?" Feredir suggested.

"He needed little excuse," Thorontur said. "Had he wanted to say something earlier, he would have done. Thranduil is right. Míron does nothing without cause."

"Do you know where Legolas is?" Arbellason asked.

"On the sparring fields with Saeldur." At Thorontur's raised eyebrow, Feredir shrugged. "I was not delighted with the idea of Legolas sparring, but he needed to do _something _to steady his nerves. At worst he will tear his stitches, although I doubt it will come to that. Saeldur knows to be careful, even if Legolas does not. I would not have consented had I not been certain of that."

"He is safer sparring with Saeldur than on the green with Míron," Arbellason muttered. "As you said, Saeldur will be careful."

"The more pressing issue is Míron." Thorontur dropped into a chair with a sigh. "Elbereth. He hates Legolas, and I would not put it past him to do Legolas any ill he could achieve without putting himself in danger."

"He would never risk doing Legolas outright harm," Arbellason objected. "He knows perfectly well that nothing and nobody could save him from Thranduil's anger if he did."

"That makes it worse. Outright harm can be guarded against."

"Do you think…" Feredir hesitated. "He would not intend to upset Legolas enough that _Legolas _did something… foolish."

"_No!_" Thranduil snapped.

"Legolas is unlikely to think of anything of the sort," Thorontur agreed. "He is hardly alone and friendless, and none of us will let him brood. No… I agree that Míron intends _something_, but… I cannot imagine…"

"Would he…" Arbellason hesitated, biting his lip. "I am told Arahael spent an inordinate amount of time in the smithy today. It seemed extraordinary, given that he is not on active duty and has not been for weeks. I asked what he was doing, but the master smith could only tell me that he was with Ranmagor."

"Who is Míron's sister-son," Thorontur said in disgust. "And unlikely to tell us even if Arahael _was _doing something he should not have been."

"I do not see what he could have been doing in the smithy," Feredir said. "Sharpening swords?"

"A smith may blunt blades as well as sharpen them," commented Arbellason. "And Arahael could easily have slipped into the warriors' halls for Legolas' weapons. With all the time he has spent with Saeldur in the past weeks, nobody would think to question him even if he entered the archers' hall."

"What good would that do? Legolas would never be careless enough to go into battle with a blunt blade… Although I did just see Arahael leaving the warriors' halls. He might have been replacing them – oh, but it makes no sense!"

"It does not," Thranduil agreed. "Legolas is unlikely to be so careless; and even if he is, that will not be enough. The armourers take charge of all weapons before a battle. They would never let Legolas go into battle with improperly-fletched arrows, much less with blunt blades. There would have to be a situation so dire that Legolas had to go at a moment's notice, so that neither he nor the armourers had time to look at his knives."

"Even then, it might achieve nothing," Thorontur pointed out. "Legolas is a skilled warrior, knives or not, and he can defend himself. No, that is leaving things too much to chance."

Feredir made a face. "As to that, there is no way to be certain –"

"What?" Thorontur asked, when Feredir stopped short, eyes going wide with horror. "Feredir. _What?_"

"_Ai Elbereth!_ There _is _a way to be certain. _That _is what Míron has been doing all day. It had to be today, because he could not risk… Legolas is too skilled a warrior to be hurt by his own blades. But there is one blade that is all but certain to touch him, _often_, and nobody will lift a finger to stop it." At the bewildered glances from the three older Elves, he said desperately, "Do you not _see_? If I wanted to hurt Legolas, I would not do a thing to _his_ weapons… I would sharpen Saeldur's sparring knives."

"And Saeldur would be unlikely to check them," Arbellason breathed. "He expects them to be blunt; he would not for a moment imagine they might be sharp. It would explain Míron's actions today – he was _trying _to make Legolas desperate enough to need the release of sparring."

"All the same, it is unlikely to do Legolas a fatal injury," Thorontur objected. "A scratch, perhaps. That is all it will take for them to realize it is not a blunted blade."

"And if Arahael tainted the blade with something?" Feredir demanded. "Spider venom? Or worse?"

There was dead silence for a moment.

"_Hurry!_" Thranduil burst, tearing from the room.

The rational part of him knew that, running full-out, the distance from the antechamber to the sparring fields could be covered in a few minutes. But it still seemed to take too long, to take _hours_, as Thranduil ran with Thorontur beside him and Arbellason and Feredir a few paces behind.

The door leading to the courtyard was open. Thranduil flung himself through it.

His footsteps on the cobbles echoed through the stillness – the warriors were all on the green, drinking, perhaps feasting by now. For once he wished that Legolas had joined in the revelry, or that he and Saeldur would allow themselves to be distracted from their sparring to investigate the noise.

He heard them before he saw them, heard the clash of steel on steel and the muffled exclamations and occasional curses. He could tell from the noises that they were being slower than usual, probably because Legolas was injured – but, praise be to Elbereth, they were still sparring, which meant that, if something _had_ been done to Saeldur's knives, they had not discovered it yet –

Thranduil spared a fraction of a second to think of how Legolas would not let him hear the end of it for _centuries _if this turned out to be a false alarm –

But he could not take the risk. Better to have Legolas alive and laughing at him than –

And now they were in sight.

Thranduil, in that moment of desperation and relief, did something he would normally have known far better than to do, something for which it would be a very long time before he forgave himself.

But wisdom was for leisure; and at that moment all he could think of was putting an end to the sparring match.

"Legolas!" he shouted urgently.

Legolas and Saeldur were both startled by the sound. On any other day that would not have been enough to distract them – warriors who let themselves get distracted by shouting did not survive very long in Mirkwood. But Legolas was already injured, and they had both had a very stressful day.

Legolas' grip on his knives slackened as his head turned. Saeldur had been using his blades only to defend, but the sudden loss of pressure from Legolas, combined with the diversion, made his hands slip.

Legolas was not as quick to parry as he would normally have been.

With blunted blades, the misstep would have resulted in a light knock to Legolas' arm, rolled eyes, mutters about clumsiness, and the sparring match would have gone on without a moment's pause.

Saeldur caught himself in time to prevent serious injury, but he could not keep the knife from slicing through Legolas' sleeve and biting into his upper arm. Blood spurted in the wake of the blade.

Thranduil stood frozen.

Saeldur hissed and dropped his knives, seizing Legolas' arm and pushing his sleeve up. Thranduil knew, even as he did, that Feredir had been right. There had been something on the knife. The wound was bleeding far too much for it to be otherwise.

The next moments were a haze.

Somehow Thranduil forced himself to move. Saeldur's eyes were wide with horror as he tried with frantic haste to stem the flow of blood. Thranduil was aware of helping, of his fingers and Saeldur's, slippery with blood, pressing down on the wound together. Legolas flinched and tried to pull away, but Saeldur held him in place. Thranduil was grateful; he could not have done it.

Then Feredir and Thorontur and Arbellason were there, Feredir giving sharp orders. Thranduil and Saeldur between them were taking most of Legolas' weight, because he was suddenly, alarmingly unable to stand without support.

"Feredir," Thorontur murmured, "perhaps we should take him to his room. Can you get what supplies you need from the Healing Wards?"

"Yes, of course. But his room is further away."

"His room is safer." Feredir nodded. "And – Feredir? If you need help, fetch your mother or your sister. Nobody else, not even Barancrist."

"You cannot think Barancrist –"

"I think we cannot be too careful now."

Feredir nodded. "Bring the knives. I must know what was on them."

Thranduil and Saeldur hustled Legolas inside, through the mercifully empty corridors. Legolas was only half conscious by the time they reached the stairs. Thranduil picked him up and carried him the rest of the way.

They only had a few moments to settle Legolas in his bed before Feredir appeared, Celebwen in tow, and sent them out.

Thranduil stared at the closed door, but it was not long before he was pulled away from it.

"Go," Thorontur said gently. "Wash off the blood. And get a fresh tunic. You, too, Saeldur."

Saeldur shook his head, collapsing into a chair. His hands and tunic were stained red, and he looked as distraught as Thranduil felt.

"I… I had… What _happened_?" Saeldur asked.

"You were sparring with sharpened blades," Arbellason told him. "Envenomed blades, if Feredir is right."

"No – it cannot – I would never –" Saeldur looked at Thranduil pleadingly. "I would _die _before I hurt Legolas."

It was a moment before Thranduil understood. When he did, he made haste to reassure Saeldur. Elbereth knew he was worried about Legolas, but he would be as bad as Míron if he let the young Elf think –

"I know," he said, quietly but firmly. "None of us would ever suspect you of intent to harm Legolas."

"But – the knives –"

"Were not your fault," Thorontur said. "We believe it may have been Arahael."

"Arahael would sharpen and taint my sparring knives? _Why?_"

"To cause precisely what just happened," Arbellason said grimly.

"He… No. I know he dislikes Legolas, but… What warrior would do that? To kill by stealth – it is unthinkable."

"The other option," Arbellason told him, "is, of course, that you did it yourself."

Saeldur flinched as though the older Elf had hit him.

"Arbellason," Thorontur protested.

Arbellason met his gaze. "We have three options, Thorontur. Somebody, probably Arahael, did it without Saeldur's knowledge, Saeldur did it on his own, or they did it together. Frankly, considering how much time Saeldur and Arahael have been spending in each other's company…"

"Arbellason," Thraduil said wearily. They truly did not have time for this.

Arbellason grimaced. "You are right. Forgive me, Saeldur. I should not have suggested – I know you would never knowingly harm Legolas."

"But… Do you truly believe Arahael… _Why?_"

"Think, Saeldur," Arbellason said. "_If _anything were to happen to Legolas, _you _would be the King's heir. That would please Míron and his friends."

"I have _never _wanted –"

"I know you have not. But does Arahael know that? All he knows is that you resented Legolas for not letting you fight." Saeldur flushed. "Do not dwell on it. We have all been unwise in our time. Thranduil and Thorontur and I quarrelled like Dwarves when we were younger. The fact is that, as far as Arahael knows, you might not go so far as to harm Legolas yourself, but there was no reason to suppose you would be unhappy if somebody did it for you."

Before Saeldur could respond, the door to the bedroom opened and Celebwen came out.

"How is he?" Thranduil asked.

"Alive, for the moment. It is fortunate Feredir was there. It was a fast-acting poison."

"But he will heal?"

"I hope so." Celebwen met his eyes with sympathy. "But I can make no promises."

* * *

I know. But I couldn't resist. All credit to Shakespeare. ;-)

What do you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	6. Answers

**Disclaimer: **Not one Elf.

**Author's Note: **This is the last chapter of this story. But I do have another one-shot ready to post soon – something light and silly that should be a relief from all this angst. And hopefully more to come after that.

Thanks to DancingChestnut, cheekybeak, Melethril, GreenGreatDragon, emi, Raisinet, L.A.H.H, Issy, wtraveler304, candycanesrox101, ellisk and sindarelleth for the reviews!

* * *

**Part VI: Answers**

Saeldur could scarcely believe that it was happening, that it was _real_. His hands – _his knives_ –

And the blood.

There was blood on his hands. Blood on his tunic. Legolas' blood. His _friend's _blood on his tunic and on his hands and on his knives.

Elbereth.

How could he not have _noticed_? He'd had no reason to believe anything had been done to his knives, of course. Why would anybody suspect such a thing? Sparring knives were stored in a different part of the armoury; nobody wanted to risk sending the warriors into battle with blunt blades. Sparring knives were on different shelves, and they looked nothing like normal battle knives. The white of a sparring knife bore a single broad green band for identification. Nobody could mistake one for anything else.

All the same, Saeldur knew he should have noticed. How long had he been a warrior? The glint of the blade itself should have told him –

Legolas might _die_. Because of _him_. Because Saeldur had been careless.

"Can I see him?" he asked.

Celebwen's answer was gentle but firm. "Not yet, Saeldur. It will be some time." He felt her hand on his shoulder. "In the meantime, you will feel much better if you get a clean tunic and wash the blood off your hands."

Legolas' blood.

With a shudder, Saeldur got to his feet and left the room.

It was not to his own room he went, though. It was to the green.

As soon as he reached it, he saw Arahael with Míron. They were standing off to one side, away from the music and the dancing, speaking.

Something made Arahael look up just then.

He saw Saeldur. Saeldur knew he must make a fearful sight, standing there with reddened hands and rust-coloured stains drying on his tunic.

Arahael smiled.

Saeldur knew – in that moment, he knew. He had not wanted to believe it, had not wanted to believe that _any _warrior could be so far removed from honour as to cravenly attempt to kill Legolas through stealth, but he read the truth in Arahael's eyes.

Arahael hurried up to him, pulling him away from the feast into the shadows of the trees.

"It is well not to let anybody see you like this. What happened?"

"You _know _what happened," Saeldur hissed. "Legolas – my sparring knives – you _know_."

"So there was an accident during training. It was foolish of Feredir to let Legolas spar when he was injured. Exceedingly foolish. Still, it is in the past."

"There was no accident. _Somebody _sharpened my sparring knives –"

"A tragic mistake by the armourers –"

"And poisoned the blades."

Arahael looked at Saeldur. "You should be careful of saying such things where people can hear you."

"Why should I fear to speak the truth? There was venom on my knives, and if ever I learn who put it there –"

"Perhaps you should speak to Rochendilwen," Arahael murmured. "She is normally responsible for the archers' weapons, is she not? And Elf-slaying runs in her blood. Her brother killed the Queen. She might have wanted to finish what he left undone. It is little loss to us that half-breeds should kill each other."

Something in Saeldur snapped. He seized Arahael's tunic, pushing him back against the nearest tree and holding him there.

"You are not just a traitor, Arahael, you are a cowardly traitor. You did not dare attack Legolas honourably to his face – even injured, he would be more than a match for you. I would have killed you for that alone, but that is not all. You used _me _to do this – you made _me_ do harm to my friend and betray my oaths as a warrior."

"Do harm to your friend?" Arahael pounced on the choice of words. "So the accident was not fatal. Or, at any rate, not fatal yet. There is time. Perhaps it will be." Arahael smiled. "We can hope. After all, if Legolas dies, the King is certain to sail to the West. And that leaves you –"

"Finish that sentence and I will kill you where you stand."

"Do not be dramatic, Saeldur –"

Saeldur cut him off with a hard shake. He felt a moment's regret that he had no weapons with him, but he needed no weapons. He could strangle Arahael with his bare hands. It was no more than he deserved –

Saeldur felt himself being pulled away. He struggled, but the grip on his arm was unyielding.

"Saeldur!" Aeroniel snapped. He knew she had been drinking earlier in the evening, he had seen her with the cup, but just then she seemed completely sober. "What happened?"

"Saeldur," Arahael said lightly, "tends to act before he thinks."

Saeldur growled low in his throat and moved towards Arahael again. Aeroniel held him back.

Arahael stepped away. "You will see things more clearly in time, Saeldur. Come to me when that is so."

Saeldur would have gone after him, but Aeroniel's hands on him were unrelenting.

"You cannot murder the King's warriors," she told him. "Not even Arahael. What has happened, Saeldur? You look like you are returning from a battlefield. And where is…" Aeroniel's eyes were wide with sudden realization as she trailed off. "Elbereth. Something has happened to Legolas."

Ten minutes later, Saeldur's hands were clean and he had a fresh tunic as, with Aeroniel and Rochendilwen, he returned to the royal quarters.

Eredhion and Voronwë were there, along with the King, Lord Arbellason and Lord Thorontur. Thranduil had clearly been persuaded to wash up and change as well.

Thorontur shook his head before Saeldur could ask anything. "There has been no change."

Saeldur sank into a chair.

"It was Arahael," he said numbly.

"Did he confess?" came the sharp question from Arbellason.

"No – not in as many words. But from what he said to me, I know."

Arbellason sighed. "I have no doubt that he did it, but we have no proof – not unless Ranmagor comes forward to tell the truth of what Arahael was doing in the armoury, and that is unlikely. He would be implicating himself as well – and implicating himself in a cold-blooded attack on the King's son."

"I will not allow this to go unpunished!" Thranduil snapped.

"I do not like the idea either, Thranduil, but what choice do we have? Unless someone _saw _Arahael take Saeldur's knives, or Ranmagor admits the truth, we have no proof. There will be those on the Council who will say Saeldur did it himself, and his innocence may be even harder to establish to the Council's satisfaction than Arahael's guilt. If we take this to the Council at all, we will have to be prepared for months of argument and no resolution. And do you think Míron will make it easy? He will have Legolas before the Council again, and it will be worse this time."

Saeldur felt immeasurably grateful that Arbellason had not added _If Legolas lives_.

Elbereth.

If Legolas did not survive, Saeldur would slit Arahael's throat, no matter what consequences he had to suffer for it afterwards.

"Do not even think of such a thing," Thorontur said, as though reading Saeldur's mind. "There will be enough trouble as it is."

The bedroom door opened. They all looked up hopefully, but Feredir shook his head.

"We are doing our best." He held something out, something slender and gleaming. It took Saeldur a moment to identify his sparring knives. "You can have these… We know what we need from them."

Rochendilwen took the knives, which was fortunate, because Saeldur could not have moved.

"Saeldur?" she asked gently when the door closed behind Feredir again. "What do you want me to do with them?"

Saeldur shook his head. "Take them to the smithy and melt them down. I… I could never bear to use them again."

"Thranduil," Thorontur said as Rochendilwen laid the knives on a table out of sight, "we must make an announcement. If not to everyone, at least tell the Council something. Soon people will notice that none of us is on the green. Questions will be asked."

"What can we tell them?"

"Say there was an accident during training," Arbellason suggested. "That is all they need to know for the moment. Those who should know more can be told later." He got to his feet. "Thorontur and I will speak to the Councillors now. You four…" His glance took in Aeroniel, Rochendilwen, Eredhion and Voronwë. "Speak to the warriors. Say no more than is absolutely necessary."

Left alone with Thranduil, Saeldur found that he could barely meet the Elven-king's eyes.

"Saeldur," Thranduil said gently, "I do not blame you. Nor will Legolas."

"You should." Saeldur knew he sounded bitter, but he could not help it. "I blame myself."

"Saeldur."

"I should have _noticed _the blades had been sharpened! It was dark, but there was enough light for that. Elbereth! I should never have given Arahael reason to think I…" He broke off, unable to speak further.

The shadows moved as Thranduil came to stand in front of him, and a light hand was laid on his bowed head.

"I should not have distracted you while you were sparring," Thranduil said quietly. "And Legolas should not have let Míron's lies upset him enough that he found it necessary to spar while injured. We will all have regrets from this, Saeldur, but so long as Legolas survives, those regrets need not be crippling."

"You did not spill the blood of your brother-in-arms, my king. I have broken my oaths more times than I can count these past weeks."

"Only you can know whether you have broken your oaths, Saeldur. And if you have, it is no business of mine unless your commanding officer decides to bring it to my attention. But no matter what has happened in the past, it is in your power to keep your oaths now."

Saeldur nodded.

Some time later – Saeldur was not certain how long – there was a soft, almost timid, knock on the door.

He and Thranduil exchanged a glance. One of the others returning would not have bothered to knock at such a time.

Saeldur went to the door, pausing on the way to pick up one of Legolas' knives. With another glance at Thranduil, who nodded, he opened the door.

His mother stood outside.

"_Naneth._" Saeldur stepped back to let her enter. "What are you doing here?"

"Thorontur told me Legolas had been hurt while sparring… He would say no more. I wanted to see how he was."

Thranduil pulled out a chair for her. "The healers are with him."

"What happened?"

Feeling as though his emotions would choke him, Saeldur looked pleadingly at Thranduil. The Elven-king looked back and forth between him and his mother for a moment, a small frown creasing his brow.

Then he sighed.

"You might as well know the truth, Celephindeth. I do not want to force Saeldur to lie to you. But – I must be able to trust you – what I am about to tell you cannot be mentioned outside this room. Not even in Council."

Celephindeth let out a breath. "It was not an accident, then. I feared as much… Thorontur and Arbellason seemed far too worried."

"We believe – we are certain, although we have no proof of it – that it was caused by Arahael, almost definitely with Míron's collusion."

"What did he do?"

"My _knives_," Saeldur said, and he would deny for the rest of his immortal life that he sobbed the word. "He sharpened my practice knives and poisoned the blades." He looked at his mother. "We… we were sparring and…"

He could not continue.

A moment later her arms were around him.

"He might be dying," Saeldur choked. "By my hand."

"Hush." Her voice was soft. "You must have faith." He felt her look up, and her next words were addressed to the Elven-king. "Thranduil, if there is anything I can do…"

After all that had happened that day, Saeldur expected Thranduil to reply sharply. But all the King said was, "If you can help Thorontur and Arbellason keep the Councillors from asking too many questions, I would be grateful."

"Of course." She got to her feet and went to the door. In the doorway she hesitated and turned to the Elven-king again. "I never intended _this_, Thranduil. I know you all believe I was needlessly harsh to Legolas – and perhaps I was – but I never intended any actual harm to come to him. Not like this. I… I would speak to him, when he is awake, if he is willing to see me."

She slipped out.

Not long after she had gone, Feredir came out of the bedroom again. He was weary, but smiling, and the sight of it made Saeldur's heart lift.

"He is awake," Feredir said. "And before you ask, yes, you may go in and see him, so long as you do not tire him out."

"Is he…"

"He will be well, my king."

Normally Saeldur would have given Thranduil and Legolas a moment alone before he went in, but he needed to see for himself that Legolas was alive and unhurt. He followed the Elven-king into the room, and the sight of his friend sitting up in his bed smiling at them was enough to make him sob in relief.

He walked straight past Feredir and Celebwen and flung his arms around Legolas, carefully, smiling when the hug was returned.

He pulled away after a moment. "Legolas, I – I am so sorry. I had no idea – but – I should have seen, I should have _noticed_. I cannot –"

"Saeldur." Legolas' voice was gentle. "I know. Feredir told me what happened. It was not your fault."

"I told you he would not blame you, Saeldur." Thranduil cupped Legolas' chin and pressed a kiss to his brow. "I must leave you now, Elfling – Thorontur and Arbellason will be sick with worry, as will your friends. They will not forgive me if I wait a moment more than I must to relieve their anxiety. I will return as soon as I can."

Saeldur saw through the transparent excuse, and he was grateful to the King for allowing him some time with his friend.

Feredir and Celebwen followed Thranduil out.

"It was Arahael," Saeldur said, when they had been left alone. "He took my knives. I had no idea, Legolas, I swear to you. I would _never _hurt you, not willingly. And now I have broken my oaths again."

"Saeldur."

"I am sworn to obey you. To _defend _you."

"I wish I knew what to tell you." Legolas looked worried, and more than a little unhappy. "I can hardly speak to you as I do to the younger archers when they grow weary."

"I am not a novice and I am not weary. I am… Ai Elbereth. I do not know. I… I do not know what to _do_,Legolas. I thought I knew myself, and I find now that I knew nothing. What manner of warrior _am_ I when I have broken my oaths to the King _and_ my oaths to you? How am I even to face the archers now?"

"You have never lacked courage, Saeldur."

"Courage will not help me if I have forfeited the trust of my commander."

"If a few difficult weeks were enough for your commander to lose trust in you, he would not be worthy of his position. I made mistakes as well, Saeldur. I _let _Míron upset me. I should have known better. And I should _never_ have let myself be distracted when we were sparring. I am not a novice any more than you are."

"You made errors, if you call them that, of carelessness. You did not break faith."

"You have my faith, Saeldur. I trust you as much now as I did on the day you swore your oaths as my second."

Saeldur gave Legolas a grateful smile, but he could not let himself relax. "We can prove nothing against Arahael. He may try again."

"I will be on my guard."

Saeldur bit his lip, thinking. Legolas _was_ a skilled warrior, and, even with his other duties, he spent far more time training than Arahael did. He did not doubt his friend's ability to handle any threat that came in the form of a frontal attack. But if he had learnt one thing, it was that Arahael could not be relied upon to act with honour, and Legolas was not suspicious by nature.

Making up his mind, Saeldur looked at his friend and commander. "Do you trust me, Legolas?"

"You know I do."

"Promise me you will, no matter what you hear. You _know _I will die before I willingly do you any harm."

"Saeldur, what –"

"_Please._"

Legolas shrugged. "If it will make you happy, you have my word. I trust you, and I will always trust you."

Saeldur nodded. Then, with a pat to Legolas' shoulder, he got to his feet. "Your father will return soon. I… I will see you in the morning. Try to rest."

As Saeldur left, he met Thranduil in the corridor. They exchanged a smile of relief. Then the Elven-king slipped past him into his son's room, and Saeldur knew he would sit with Legolas until his duties called him away in the morning.

Saeldur wished he could rest as well – he was weary – but there was something else he had to do first.

Steeling himself for what could only be an unpleasant conversation, he went in search of Arahael.

* * *

THE END

* * *

No, really. This is the end. And it _isn't _a cliffhanger, because _Practise to Deceive _gives a pretty good idea of what comes next.

That said – this is the end of this story, but not necessarily of this arc. I don't imagine that anything involving immortal beings can be neatly wrapped up in a few weeks, and Míron definitely shouldn't be considered out of the game yet. ;-) But I really need a break from writing angst, so the next fic up will be… Well. You'll see.

Please review!


End file.
